


An End Has a Start

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Bunkers, Canon Lesbian Character, F/M, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Inspirational Speeches, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Canon, Survival, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Abel was a township, there was just a group of scared people hiding in a bunker, waiting for the inevitable. Sam’s encounters there and how he became the radio operator we all know and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An End Has a Start

“Fire!”

Another round of gunfire. Sam doesn't flinch anymore when he hears it, just huddles down, hunching in on himself, his knees drawn up to his chest like if he's small and silent enough, no-one will notice him. Not humans, not zoms if (when) they break through.

It feels more like 'when' than 'if', especially when he can hear the groans of the zoms. So loud. Why are they so _loud_?

He starts when someone sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder almost, but the bunker is pretty crowded so it's kind of impossible to _not_ get up close and sometimes. He glances over, recognising the woman who'd checked him over when the Major had picked him up. She offers a small smile and passes over a small bowl of soup and some bread that, okay, isn't exactly fresh, but it's not mouldy either.

“Rations,” she says, leaning back against the wall next to him with her own food.

“What, no McDonalds?” he asks, managing to smile back as he starts on the soup. It's kind of thin and not very tasty, but it's all he'll get and he's not too proud to eat whatever he's handed.

“Well, we sent someone for takeout, but I guess the zoms had the same idea,” she replies dryly, and it's a horrible horrible joke and in terrible taste and Sam cracks up trying to stifle his slightly hysterical giggles behind his hand.

“Good to know someone's still capable of laughing,” she says and then holds out her hand to him. “I'm Doctor Myers,” she says, pauses for a moment and then, “Maxine.”

“Well, I think it's probably more of a hysterical breakdown but better than crying,” Sam replies, shaking her hand. “I'm Sam Yao,” he says and because it sounds kind of lame when she has a _profession_ , he adds, “I'm a student. _Was_ a student because I'm pretty sure most of my university got eaten.”

“Yeah, I think there's a lot of that going around. Pleased to meet you, Sam. You're one of the people Major de Santa brought in, right?”

Sam nods. “Yeah, I was trying to get... I dunno. Anywhere safe. The net said people were holding up at the castle a few miles away so I thought I'd head there but I got attacked.” And they'd found him fighting off zombies on the road and here he is.

“You're from around here then?” Maxine asks.

“From one of the villages the other side of town, yeah,” Sam says. “I was visiting home from Uni. I'm, well, I'm glad I wasn't stuck there,” he admits, shuddering at the thought of his campus and lecture theatre packed with people. Dead people.”

“Yeah,” Maxine agrees. “It spread pretty quickly in places. Hospitals, campuses. Lots of people all packed in close.”

“A bit like here then?” Sam says and instantly regrets it, ducking his head in an awkward gesture. “Sorry.”

“It's okay,” Maxine says, squeezing his shoulder gently. It's more reassuring than Sam would have expected. “It's nothing that we haven't all been thinking.”

“Yeah but... but most people aren't dumb enough to say it out loud,” Sam replies with a wry smile.

Maxine laughs softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. It's a nice smile, a nice laugh, the kind a doctor should have. “I think we're a bit beyond jinxes here, Sam.”

“I don't know,” Sam replies as he finishes the soup and sets the bowl aside. “We can use all the luck we can get, I reckon.”

“I'm not going to argue that,” Maxine replies.

The guns finally go silent and Sam's shoulders slump, the tension bleeding out into exhaustion. “I wish that meant that it was over,” he said quietly.

“We all do,” Maxine says softly.

There's a bit of a commotion going on near the entrance, in amongst all the military personnel who've been working on driving back the undead, slowly securing an area outside the bunker. Maxine's half on her feet before her name is even called.

“Doctor Myers.” That's Major de Santa. Sam recognises her voice, although they haven't spoken since she'd picked him up. “We need your assistance.”

Maxine smiles at Sam and then she's gone, surrounded by people. Sam can't hear what they're saying , except that they sound agitated, worried.

There's a gunshot a moment later, loud and sharp and definitely from inside the bunker. Sam looks up quickly, eyes wide and oh _god_ are the zombies inside?

There's no other shot though, just the sound of the door, a thump and oh _oh_. He feels a little sick when he realises, sees Maxine's face twisted into a grimace.

A scratch. That's all it takes.

His soup is cold by the time he finishes it, but he eats it anyway. And then he pushes himself to his feet and heads over to the woman that he thinks is in charge, besides the Major of course. She acts that way at least, organising everything inside the bunker, rationing out food and water.

“Uh, hey,” he says awkwardly, and she gives him a hard look. Kind of severe.

“Yes?”

“Is there anything I can do? I mean, to help?” He's going crazy like this, sitting around, nothing to keep himself occupied.

“Can you handle a gun?” she asks, looking him over.

Sam shakes his head. “No.” He's never even handled one.

“Then you best serve everyone by staying out of the way. I'm sure that we will find a use for you in good time.”

He sort of deflates at that, shoulders slumping. “Alright. Thanks.”

He slinks back to his corner and sits down again. Small and silent. He pulls out his phone, checking it just in case, but there's no signal. There's been no signal for days, even before he got here, and before _that_ , so many people had been calling that it was impossible to get through. They'd never managed to get hold of his sister.

He still has music on there though, and games, but they run down the battery quicker. He puts in his earbuds and sets it to shuffle. It's not much of a distraction, but it's marginally better than nothing. Blocks out the moans at least.

It isn't long before Maxine returns, but the change in her is startling, or maybe Sam just hadn't noticed before. She looks tired and drawn, pinched around her mouth. She slumps down next to him, leaning back against the wall, her eyes closed. Sam looks at her for a moment and then wordlessly holds out his earbuds and phone to her. She blinks in surprise, stares at him, and then gives a small smile of gratitude before taking them.

At some point, he ends up falling asleep against Maxine's side and he wakes the next morning with his head on her shoulder.

\----------

“Do you know how to clean a gun?”

She is pretty. Dark eyes and dark skin, black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She's kind of sharp featured but she has such an air of competence to her. Sam just stares for a moment before giving an intelligent “Huh?”

She raises an eyebrow and holds out a sidearm. Sam kind of recoils because he's never seen a gun so close really, except in video games and this one is disturbingly real and solid. “A gun. Do you know how to clean one?” She sees his reaction and smiles. “I'll take that as a no then. I'll show you. I saw you asking Janine for something to do last night.”

She sits down next to him and sets the gun down on the floor in front of them. Sam leans forward, shifting onto his knees so that he can see better. “Alright,” he says, because there's nothing else for him to do and it keeps him at least semi-occupied.

“First thing,” she says, picking it up and showing it to him, “always make sure that it's unloaded. Check it. Check it again. I don't care how stupid you feel. Make sure.”

“Right,” Sam murmurs solemnly as she pulls out the clip of the magazine or it's called something like that, he's sure. Maybe. Who knows how accurate Halo was?

She takes the gun apart, fingers moving deftly over it, and she lays the pieces out on the floor between them. Sam's gaze flicks up to her face and the rapt concentration there.

She shows him how to clean each piece and oil it until it slides back together without a hitch. It's impressive how quickly she does it. And also kind of scary.

“Your turn,” she says, and passes the gun over to him. Sam takes it the same way he'd probably take a poisonous snake, holding it gingerly. Sure, he's got an axe and he's used it, but a gun? That's different.

“Me?” he asks, giving her an uncertain look.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. It's a nice laugh, Sam thinks, and he finds himself smiling back. “I didn't spend time showing anyone else how to do it.”

“I guess not,” Sam says and then he slowly begins to try to dismantle it. She helps when he gets stuck, her hands warm against his, guiding them through the motions. It's pretty satisfying actually being able to do it, to feel the parts click into place and move smoothly. She makes him take the gun apart and reassemble it a couple more times after that, but she doesn't push him, or get angry when he fumbles and thinks he's lost one of the parts for a minute.

“That's pretty good,” she says, giving him a satisfied look as she holsters the gun again. “I might ask you to do it again. Saves time if I need to relieve someone on duty, okay?”

“Okay,” he says a little too eagerly, smiling at her. Oh _god_ he probably looks like an idiot. “Why me?” he asks after a moment because he's pretty sure that there's enough military to keep up with that sort of thing, rather than a kid who's never handled a weapon before. “And- and what's your name?” he blurts out, instantly mortified but stubborn with it.

“You just looked like you needed something to do,” she says with a shrug. “Waiting's always the worst. And I'm Alice.” She holds out her hand for him to shake and it's strong and calloused and greasy from the gun oil.

“Sam,” he says. “Are- are you military? I mean, you know how to handle a gun and I've seen you fighting along with the Major's men.”

She scoots back to lean against the wall next to him, legs stretched out in front of her. “Ex-military, actually. I work for a private security firm but since all my clients and co-workers are probably the undead by now, I'm assuming my contract's been terminated.”

“Well, you never know,” Sam says, and he's pretty sure he's grinning like a moron, “with the way things are going these days, it might resurrect itself.” He cringes as soon as he says it. A hundred intelligent things he could have said and he goes for that. But Alice laughs, a proper laugh too, not something hysterical and broken like he's heard too often over the past few weeks. Sam just stares for a moment, his smile softening into something less manic.

“I'd better watch out for the zombie contract lawyers then, not that it's that easy to tell the difference most days.”

“I've heard it's okay to kill them now though,” Sam says.

Alice grins at him. “There isn't a court in the land that would convict me. Or anyone else, but let's be honest, it's mainly myself I'm concerned with.”

“I think that's fair,” Sam say. “Survival and all that. Everyone wants to survive.” He sort of wants to say 'survival of the fittest' but he's pretty sure that would mean he'd be one of the first to die. Obviously, if he'd known that the zombie apocalypse was coming, he'd have actually used the gym at university instead of promising to go once his homework started making sense.

Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.

“Of course they do. And we're going to survive,” Alice says, with the sort of hard certainty that you normally associate with the heroes of action movies. “We will. Heard good things about Major de Santa when I was with the military. She's got a good reputation and now we're entrenched, we've got a better chance. You'll see.”

God, the way she says it he can almost believe it. He wants to anyway. “She saved my life,” he says. “The Major I mean. I was attacked on my way out of town. Thought I was gonna die.”

Alice nods, her expression serious. “I come from London,” she says. “good thing I was visiting relatives out of town. Up near Leeds. Would've hated trying to get out of London.” 

There's a note to her voice which makes him bite back questions about her family. Which is fine. He doesn't much want to talk about his either.

“I saw on the news,” Sam say. He couldn't have avoided it really. 24/7 bulletins until the signals went dead and by then, most of the journalists had gone grey, once or twice on live TV even. “I mean, the roads around here were pretty bad, people trying to escape. People gone grey while driving and causing crashes.” 

“The roads everywhere,” Alice says. “Took one look and ditched my car. I'd never have got anywhere.”

“I guess we were lucky then,” Sam says although he doesn't sound quite convinced. Not when he's stuck in a bunker with the undead crowding outside, waiting for one slip .

“We will be, you'll see,” Slice replies with a small smile. “Everyone who got here is a survivor.”

“Me? A survivor?” Sam says incredulously. “I'm a student. That's all.”

“But you got here. Didn't hide yourself away in a deathtrap of a house and wait to get bitten.”

“Did people really do that?” His eyes widen in horror at the prospect.

“Yeah.” Alice nods. “Saw it. Students holing up in dorm rooms, people boarding up windows like it'd help when they live on a terrace in the middle of the city.”

Sam winces. Even panicked and crying after his parents had, well- his first thought had always been to get away from anywhere populated. “That's awful.”

“I suppose it's not like they could have predicted it really. Who expects _zombies_?”

“I remember one of my mates at Uni had a zombie apocalypse survival kit,” Sam says, his expression somewhere between a grin and a grimace. “Wonder how he's doing.”

Except he doesn't really. He's trying not to think about other people, people he'll probably never see again.

“Hey,” she says, leaning forward and wow her eyes are really pretty. “You're alive. That's what you focus on. Stick with me and we'll get through it, right?” She holds out her hand and after a moment Sam takes it. She squeezes it, that firm grip again. “There we go. Don't let me down now Sam.”

“I won't!” he says, his smile brightening with confidence that he doesn't really feel but maybe he can fake it enough that it might become real.

When night falls, she hauls her sleeping bag over to him, spreading it out at his side. It's the first decent sleep he's managed since this al started.

\----------

“Are you sure there's nothing I can help with, Maxine?”

The doctor glances up at him from where she's tidying away the medical equipment she's been using. Nothing fatal today at least. A sprained ankle, someone's pre-existing illness. “Do you have any medical or first aid training?”

“No,” he admits, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “i just want to do more than hand out rations and stare at the door.”

She smiles, a sympathetic expression. “I'm sorry, Sam. I need to know exactly what I have and where it all is in case of emergency. It's easier if I take care of it myself.”

“Of course,” he says quickly. “That makes sense.” It does really, but he can't help the way his shoulders slump at the answer.

He's bored, weird as that seems in the middle of the apocalypse, and being bored gives him too much time to think and worry and drive himself mad over what could happen. He's cleaned gun a few times sure, and he is helping to get the rations around, but it's not enough.

“Have you tried asking Janine?” Maxine asks. “She seems to be in charge of the day to day stuff here.”

“Uh, is she the scary one?” he asks, leaning forward to whisper it.

Maxine flashes him a smile. “Not sure scary is the right word. Maybe prickly is better.”

“I asked a couple of days ago, but I could try again I suppose,” Sam replies, smiling back at her. She's easy to talk to and he enjoys her company.

“Can't hurt to try.”

“It might. She might bite my head of. Literally. Who knows what people will do these days?”

“I doubt she's going to eat you, Sam,” Maxine says, grinning. “But if she does then I will remember your noble sacrifice.”

“Wow, thanks. Good to know you care,” Sam says, sticking his tongue out.

Janine isn't hard to find. No-one is really. The bunker isn't that large after all and there's not really many places to hide. She's sorting ammunition when he approaches her, ticking it all off on a clipboard and it's all very efficient.

“Can I help you with something?” she asks before Sam even opens his mouth.

It strikes him dumb for a moment and he shifts uncomfortable. “Uh, I wondered if there was anything I could help with,” he says. “I mean, I'm not afraid to work.”

She gives him an intent look, hard and inscrutable, and then her expression softens just a little. Her voice doesn't soften any though, so maybe he's imagining it. It's hard to tell. “You asked before, didn't you?”

“Yeah,” he says, wondering if he should be calling her ma'am or something. “It's better than waiting around, doing nothing.”

“I didn't quite catch your name.”

“Sam. Sam Yao.”

“Very well, Mr. Yao. Help me with these boxes. Each one needs counting, checking off and passing on to the right person under Major de Santa. It's useless giving out the wrong types of bullets. We don't have the resources to waste any.”

“Alright,” Sam says. “Where do I start?”

It's hard, dirty work. Bullets are heavy when you're moving crates of them for hours. He aches by the time they're done, but it's kind of satisfying too, just having done something other than sit around and worry.

“Good,” Janine says when they're finally done, dusting off her hands. “That was adequate. If I need anything, I'll remember this. You might regret having asked.” There's a faint curve to her lips and Sam gets the impression that adequate from her is pretty much glowing praise from anyone else.

That's how things continue for a few days. He helps out Janine and chats with Maxine and curls up next to Alice at night, sharing his earbuds with her. She likes Manic Street Preachers and teases him mercilessly when a Eurovision song from a couple of years ago comes on. That's fine though. She has a guilty love of Take That that he can exploit in return.

\----------

There's something different in the air when he wakes up. He can't quite put his finger on it, but it's like there's a tenseness in the air, everyone even more on edge than they have been until now. There's a small group huddled around the Major having an intense looking conversation. Alice is with them, her sleeping bag abandoned next to his.

“What's happening?” he asks Maxine when he sidles up next to her. She looks worn out again, dark smudges beneath her eyes. Then again, he's pretty sure he looks much the same.

“We lost two more people,” she says, her voice hushed. “They got the cameras working but...”

She doesn't need to say anything more.

Finally, after too long uncomfortable near-silence, the Major pulls away, turning to face them. She's an imposing woman, stocky and dark, her hair pulled up into a tight bun, her uniform impeccable despite the situation.

“Attention.” Her voice is clear as a bell, cutting through the whispers running through the assembled people in the bunker. “I know that this had been a hard few weeks. Everyone has lost someone close to them. We've seen our homes, our civilisation crumble around us. The following weeks will be hard, but I believe that all of us who have made it here have the will to survive.” It's compelling the way she speaks, the sheer determination in her voice. Sam wants to believe her and he can understand Alice's admiration.

“For the past few days we've been working to clear the hostiles from the immediate area to create a safe zone. We've acquired materials to begin expanding the fenced off area around the bunker, enough to encompass the farmhouse and outbuildings. But we will need everyone's help. We're going to need people to work on the fences while others run decoy, distract the enemy. I won't ask anyone to do anything that I am not willing to do myself. I will be out there in the field, coordinating.” She takes a breath, looking around the room, her gaze intent. “We'll begin in a few days time when we have the rest of the supplies we require. Right now however, I need a radio operator. I ask anyone who has experience with radio equipment to step forward.”

There's silence. It stretches out long and taut and Sam realises that he's holding his breath. Someone had to step forward. Someone has to be qualified, more qualified than him: the failure, the disappointment. 

But no-one does.

“I'll do it,” someone says, and it's him stepping forward. It feels like a dream.

The Major looks him over, the full force of that piercing gaze fixed on him. “Have you done this before?”

He takes a breath and nods. “Yeah. I mean, I did stuff at the radio station at university.” 

Maybe that's useless to them. He isn't sure if he's hoping for that or dreading it.

“What's your name?” The Major asks.

“Sam Yao.”

She gives him a faint smile. “Very good, Yao. You're our new radio operator.”


End file.
